She came to him and took his hands in her own.

"It is just because I am kind and gentle and merciful," she said,
in her sweet, grave accents, "that I will not marry you, dear! I
know I am right,--and you will think so too, in time. For the
moment you imagine me to be much better and prettier than I am--
and that there is no one like me!--poor Robin!--you are blind!--
there are so many sweet and lovely girls, well born, with fathers
and mothers to care for them--and you, with your good looks and
kind ways, could marry any one of them--and you will, some day!
Good-night, dear! You have stayed here a long time talking to me!
--just suppose you were seen sitting on this window-ledge so late!
--it is past midnight!--what would be said of me!"

"What could be said?" demanded Robin, defiantly. "I came up here
of my own accord,--the blame would be mine!"

She shook her head sadly, smiling a little.

"Ah, Robin! The man is never blamed! It's always the woman's
fault!"

"Where's your fault to-night?" he asked.

"Oh, most plain!" she answered. "When I saw you coming, I ought to
have shut the window, drawn the curtains, and left you to clamber
down the wall again as fast as you clambered up! But I wanted to
tell you what had happened--and how everything had changed for me
--and now--now that you know all--good-night!"